


Preparation for Change

by infiniteeight



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Also fictional and inaccurate insulin, Clint and Coulson do not technically appear, Fictional and inaccurate diabetes, First Time, Hansel is a lot more like Clint Barton than you might think, I actually researched that but it didn't help, I tried to make it better but probably failed, M/M, Romance, but the audience was C/C shippers so I tagged it for visibility, so I gave him an OC who could be his version of Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Note</b>: This is not technically a C/C fic, but Hansel and Philip are sort of avatars for Clint and Coulson, and it was written primarily for a C/C audience, so that's why it's tagged that way.</p><p><b>Actual Summary</b>: Hansel is having a hard time adjusting to Ben and Edward joining him and Gretel. It doesn't help that they don't fully understand the limits the sugar sickness places on him. Then he meets an apothecary who might be able to change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preparation for Change

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jo for beta reading for me! 
> 
> And to chat for the endless cheering. :) Believe it or not, I started writing this not long after the movie came out. They've been doing a whole lot of cheering while I worked on it and took breaks and worked on it and took breaks!

Hansel was pleased that Edward and Ben were with them now. He _was_. Ben was young and inexperienced, but he was a good shot, and he'd studied the lore of witches obsessively. He knew more of it than either Hansel or Gretel; almost all of their knowledge had come from practical experience. Edward couldn't come into town with them, but his strength and devotion to Gretel meant they always had a safe camp to fall back to. Not to mention that the troll's power and stamina allowed them to carry more weapons and travel further between jobs than ever before. At least, they would have been able to travel further, if not for Hansel.

Their payment for any given job included two animals. Pigs or goats, usually. They only needed a single organ, but the siblings hesitated to advertise the reason, so they took the whole animal. If it was healthy, the mysterious organ that yielded Hansel's medication gained him a two week supply. Two animals meant a month.

This meant that they had to take a job at least once a month, or buy the animals themselves. Even if they found a large job that paid more, they didn't dare sit idle longer; the extra was better saved for stretches of time short of work.

It had never seemed like much of a limitation. They'd sought out witches as much for their own satisfaction as for the work. But now, more and more, Ben would suggest some interesting hunt 'Just five weeks travel,'and Gretel would glance at Hansel and shake her head, or ask, "Is there one between here and there?"

Sometimes they made the trek anyway, buying an animal along the way. They used the meat, of course, and Gretel claimed they'd probably have bought it regardless, but Hansel had never been so conscious of his own weakness before. He'd started looking at their dwindling reserves and worrying that it was his fault, wondering if he'd become a burden on his sister.

They had only had each other, before. Your only support, your only companion, _couldn't_ be a burden. But Gretel wasn't alone anymore. Edward was loyal entirely and completely to her. And Ben, for all his hero worship of the two of them, could hardly take his eyes off Gretel.

In his darker moments, late at night, Hansel wondered why _both_ people who had come into their world to revolve around Gretel had survived, when the one who had been there for Hansel had died. But he knew the answer--this was Gretel's tale. It was her heart that had been sought twice over. Her life that their parents had been protecting. It had always been her story, not theirs. He simply hadn't known.

Hansel couldn't resent it. Gretel deserved to understand what had happened to them, to have the disquiet of their past settled in her mind. She deserved to be at the center of someone's world, and to know how very unique she was. No, he didn't resent her. It was just lonely, rolling onto a pallet on one side of the fire while Ben and Edward quietly jockeyed for position next to Gretel on the other side.

***

The bend in the road and the row of gnarled trees that marked the approach to the next town came as a distinct relief. It wasn't even that Hansel was down to a dozen injections of medicine--barely four days' worth. It was more the knowledge that he'd finally have his sister to himself for awhile. They couldn't afford to take two rooms even at the cheapest inn; witch hunting paid well, but infrequently, and while doubling the size of their party had increased their efficiency, it hadn't quite doubled either it or their income.

Instead, they'd make camp outside town and leave Edward and Ben there while Hansel and Gretel went in to replenish their supplies, returning the next day to take rooms and gather information. If there was a hunt in the area they'd also introduce themselves to the populace, but that wasn't the case today. Trips into town were just about the only times, these days, that felt familiar and comfortable to Hansel.

He did his part to help set up the camp, and then shouldered his mostly empty pack and his shotgun. When he turned to see if Gretel was ready, she had her coat off and was sitting on one of the logs they'd pulled into place, her pack open at her feet. "Gretel, we should be heading into town."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm going to stay in camp and keep Edward company," she said. "Ben will go with you to get the supplies."

Hansel frowned. "And how is Ben supposed to know what we need?"

"I talked to him about it," she said dryly. "Besides, how can he learn if we don't let him try?"

Ben raised a hand. "He is also standing right here and can speak for himself."

Hansel shot him a sharp look, then sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Let's go." He turned and stalked off towards town, ignoring the boy's startled shout and sudden scramble for his pack.

So much for time with Gretel.

Ben, once he caught up, started in on his usual barrage of questions and comments, though at least this time they were more practical. How much of this, why that, can you really carry that much? Well of course, they could _now_ , but before they'd had Edward to help? Why live goats instead of salted or smoked meat?

Hansel answered absently right up until the last question. Then the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't help the way his shoulders hunched up. He and Gretel had never needed to talk about it.

"Hansel?" Ben asked awkwardly. At least the kid knew he'd hit a sore subject. That was an improvement.

"We need one of the organs to make my injections," Hansel bit out. "And we don't much like people knowing which part. Besides, the meat is cheaper and lasts longer if we smoke it ourselves."

"Oh." 

For a moment there was only the scuff of their boots on the hard-packed bed of the narrow road. But Hansel wasn't surprised when Ben forged ahead with a new question; he'd never lacked courage. Sense, yes. Courage, no.

"So..." Ben began, dragging out the word, perhaps to give Hansel a chance to shut him up. But really, what was the point in putting it off? Hansel waited for the rest of the question. "Your injections," Ben went on finally. "How'd you find something that helped? I mean, you were pretty young when it all started, you can't have figured that out yourself."

Hansel wished he could say that he had. He wanted to say, _What, you don't think I'm as smart as you? Think I couldn't read a few books and put it together and get what I needed?_ But it would've been a lie, and as much as Gretel had learned during the blood moon, Hansel had learned something too: sticking his head in the sand and ignoring the things that made him uncomfortable could get them all killed. "I spent the better part of two years passing out every few days," he said. "In between, I'd be starving and nauseous at the same time. I never puked it back up, but Gretel could hardly get me to eat, anyway." 

Gretel had wanted to settle down somewhere and try and get him well, back then, but Hansel had been convinced he was dying, and if he was going to die, he wanted to take down as many witches as he could, first. "Every town we found with a witch, after the hunt she'd ask, 'Have you seen this before? Can you help?'" Hansel shrugged. "One day, someone could. She was an herb-woman, and Gretel didn't believe her at first, because we'd tried every herb there was by then, in every combination. But Gretel was desperate, desperate enough to wait while this woman slaughtered one of her own animals and made up that first injection, even though digging that organ out sure made it look like blood magic." Or so Gretel said; Hansel had been all but unconscious at the time. "I screamed like a stuck pig the first time I got that needle in the thigh, but the stuff works fast; by the time she finished pushing the plunger down, my head was already clearing."

"Wow," Ben said softly. "I guess she showed you how to make more?"

Hansel nodded. Then he sighed. "I'll have to show you how, some time."

Ben beamed at him. "You will? Really? That'd be great."

"We're a team now, right?" Hansel shook his head tiredly. "You'll need to know."

Ben's step took on a distinct bounce. "You know, the sugar sickness isn't the only illness linked back to witches--" He launched into a lecture. Hansel let him go on; it wasn't that much farther.

It was a large town, or so the maps said, a good place to resupply and pick up some news. They hadn't heard of any witches at their last two stops--well, none inside Hansel's range--and they'd chosen this as a central location to gather information, resupply, and prepare to strike out again. With luck, there would also be a good apothecary's shop, one that would allow Hansel to use their equipment to prepare his medicine. He had a portable set up, broken down and taking up the bottom third of his pack, that would suffice, but the liquid it produced was cloudy and dark, instead of clear and brown, and made his head ache. 

When they reached the town, they drew only a few curious glances. The place was obviously used to travellers, and their weapons were strapped discreetly to the sides of their packs. The few people who frowned at Hansel dismissed him when they caught sight of Ben, and Hansel shot the boy a thoughtful look. Did he seem old enough to be Ben's father? Perhaps, but more likely they thought him a master and his apprentice. Which he supposed they were.

They found a tavern near the center of town, and a quick inquiry produced directions to the butcher, smokehouse, and apothecary. Nodding his thanks, Hansel led Ben back out of the tavern, pausing for a moment to get his bearings in the town.

Ben bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet. "Where to first?" he asked brightly.

Hansel raised his eyebrows. "Where do you think?"

Ben frowned thoughtfully.

Sighing, Hansel raised his arm and tapped the timer meaningfully. Ben laughed awkwardly and waved a hand. "Right. Market, butcher, and smokehouse?"

"Market and butcher for both of us, then smokehouse for you and apothecary for me," Hansel corrected.

Ben bobbed his head agreeably. "All right, sounds good. Time to go?"

Hansel nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "Time to go."

The market went well; all their usual supplies were quickly acquired, and there was a man there with an old nanny goat that he hadn't been able to sell. After Hansel bargained over a younger animal for awhile, the man offered him the nanny as an incentive towards a higher price. Hansel accepted, and they were both pleased. 

The butcher was more reluctant. Most locals would have their own yards for butchering their beasts, and wasn't used to loaning the use of his space. In the end, it was Ben that got them in, offering a few of the choicer cuts of meat off the animals as recompense, though he carefully reserved the organ meats for themselves. Hansel was silently impressed, but Ben _had_ grown up in a town much like this one. It made Hansel more comfortable sending the boy to have the meat smoked while he went to find the apothecary, two lumps of organ meat carefully wrapped in wax paper sitting atop his empty injection canisters in the sack he carried.

It took him longer than he expected to find the building he was looking for, not because it was small and tucked away, but because it was larger than he was expecting. He passed it at least twice, thinking it a general store, before venturing inside and encountering the familiar herb and wax scent of a well stocked apothecary.

There were a few steps worth of space free at the front of the shop before a wooden counter blocked the way, stretching from one wall to the other and pierced by a low, latched gate on the right. On Hansel's side of the counter there were only a few hooks on the wall holding pouches with a variety of leaf shapes sketched on them in chalk. Hansel recognized all the pictures; they were simple herbs, the sort of thing you'd find out gathering on your own if you had the time.

On the other side of the counter was more space and many more bins and bottles and pouches of things, all of them with neat written labels. There was also a curtain, and between it and the counter a man sat on a tall wooden stool. The apothecary, presumably.

He was older than Hansel, his brown hair starting to thin on top, though he still had most of it. There were lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, and when he looked up at Hansel he offered a smile of welcome that made it clear where they came from. "Good afternoon," he said, and his voice was relaxed and somehow comfortable, a balm on the ear. He looked Hansel over, a frank and straightforward evaluation. "You've been travelling. Replenishing supplies, or taking a break?"

The smile made the apothecary's blue eyes sparkle and Hansel was struck for a moment with the appealing planes of the man's face and the steadiness of his manner. He had to fight the urge to duck his head, instead pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket and holding it out. "A bit of both. I need everything on this list, and the use of your workshop, if that can be arranged."

"I don't usually let anyone into my workshop," the apothecary said, reading over the list. There were more ingredients on it than Hansel needed to make his medication--it wasn't even all camoflage, they had plenty of regular wounds to patch--but there were two things there that Hansel knew a skilled apothecary would look at and wonder about. This apothecary frowned at the list, and Hansel knew he was a good one.

"I understand," Hansel said in reply to the comment about the workshop, "but there is a preparation which I would like to make that few others are familiar with. If I make it myself, I know it's been done correctly."

"There are some things on this list I wouldn't trust in inexperienced hands," the apothecary said, but he seemed to be agreeing. He looked up from the list at Hansel again. This time, his eye caught on the timer on Hansel's wrist, which was, as ever, slowly running down, and he pursed his lips. "You may have the use of my workshop," he said, "if I may be there while you make the preparation."

Hansel hesitated. They weren't on a hunt, and there was no reason to believe this man wished him harm, but still, to make the details of his weakness known to a stranger...

"Please," the apothecary said. "I serve more than just this town; this is a crossroads of a sort, and I never know what medicines the travellers coming through may need." His face fell into grave lines. "I swear to you, if I ever pass on your preparation, I will say nothing of where I learned it."

Hansel thought of the two years he'd spent near-constantly ill, of Gretel's desperation and his own black resignation to the conviction that the witch had killed him after all, only more slowly, and knew he couldn't say no. "Very well." He nodded toward the back room. "It would be best to start immediately, if we could."

The apothecary nodded and came to the gate, unlatching it and leaving it open while he went to lock the shop door. "I presume you have the meat you need in your pack."

Hansel scowled. "How did you know there would be meat?"

Turning from the door, the apothecary smiled reassuringly. "There were two ingrediants on the list which slow decay. Any infusion requiring them would also have an animal product; there is no other reason to include them."

That was news to Hansel. He'd learned to make the infusion by rote, and had never known why it was assembled as it was. But he wasn't about to admit that, so he just nodded.

The apothecary finished securing the shop and stepped back behind the counter, waving for Hansel to follow him. "My name is Philip," he said as they walked into the back of the shop. He only half turned to speak as he went.

"Hansel." There was a chance the man would know the name, but perhaps half the time Gretel's absence threw doubt into people's minds.

But not Philip's. He met Hansel's eyes as he held the curtain to the back of the shop. "The witch hunter." It was not a question. Hansel nodded. Philip nodded back, speaking as Hansel stepped past him into the workshop. "You do good work. I heard about the blood moon, and how you and a local woman and boy rescued the children and stopped the witches from becoming even more powerful."

Hansel stopped and turned, looking back at Philip, eyebrows raised. "Is that how they tell it?" It certainly wasn't a version he'd heard before. 

"I've heard several variations," Philip said. "Some more fantastical than others. That is the one that sounds right to me."

Snorting, Hansel shook his head. "You'd be wrong. My sister swayed a troll to helping stop the ritual. I got Mina killed. I very nearly died myself, but Gretel arrived in time."

There was a long work table in the center of the room, with three mismatched stools, two on the near side, and one on the far. Philip took one of the two stools and gestured Hansel to the other. "And would your sister have had the opportunity to speak to the troll if you and Mina had not slain most of the witches, disrupted the ritual, and caused a great uproar?" Philip asked as Hansel settled himself. "Would you have known where to find their leader if not for yours and the boy's preparations? That Gretel struck the killing blow does not minimize your actions." He went on, "Perhaps to the two of you, killing the head witch was the triumph, but to the village it was the disruption of the ritual that was most important, and that was you and Mina and the boy."

For a moment Hansel couldn't think of what to say. The news sheets were full of Gretel, his own role a side note at best, a helpless rescuee at worst. "Ben," Hansel filled in. "The boy's name is Ben."

Philip tilted his head. "He still travels with you?"

Hansel frowned. "That doesn't matter to this," he said, nodding at the list Philip still held.

"Of course," the apothecary said. "If you would select the equipment you require, we can get started." He pointed to the wall furthest from the archway and Hansel looked, and then stared. A low table ran along the full length of the wall, and every inch of the table surface, plus at least a dozen hooks screwed into the wall above, was occupied with every kind of distilling, separating, heating, and mixing apparatus Hansel had ever seen, plus a few instruments that he didn't recognize at all. 

Hansel turned back to Philip. "How could you possibly need all of those?" he asked. "This town isn't that large, and you can't possibly serve so many travelers that you would need to use three types of warming flask at once."

A flush touched Philip's cheeks; Hansel tried not to find it sweet and failed. "I'm something of a collector," Philip said. "The variations are amazing, depending on who designed the equipment. Regardless, you don't need to fear putting me to trouble by using one."

"I can see that," Hansel said, throwing Philip a small smile. Philip smiled back and Hansel felt a thread of connection _ping_ to life between them, like a plucked harp string. He ducked his head and slid off the stool to approach the wall of tools. It was hard to select those he recognized when fancier, possibly better, versions of the same equipment beckoned; Hansel had always had a weak spot for machines, which was half the reason they had the armory they did. But he was too wary of poorly prepared solutions (which left him with splitting headaches) to take chances with his medicine. So he chose a simple boiler, separator, infuser, and stirring flask and brought them back to the bench. "These will do."

Philip nodded absently, his eyes on the list Hansel had given him. He looked up and laid the list on the table, turning it toward Hansel. "Which of these do you need for the preparation? I can fetch them from the front room."

Hansel hesitated, but he'd come this far. He indicated seven items with taps of his finger. "These." 

Nodding in a more businesslike fashion, Philip stood and headed back to the front of the store. He left the list on the table, apparently having committed the necessary herbs and other items to memory. While he was gone, Hansel took the two lumps of organ meat from his pack. They were still faintly warm, and for a moment Hansel's stomach turned over at what he would be making to inject into himself. He resisted the urge to take a deep breath, knowing that the smell of the meat would only make the feeling worse. Instead, he unwrapped one of the lumps and started cutting it into small pieces using his belt knife.

Philip returned when Hansel was just about done, hands full of paper packets. He frowned as he set them down on the table. Hansel carefully wiped his knife clean and set it on the table. "Problem?" he asked, looking the apothecary in the eye.

"No, of course not," Philip said. He tilted his head. "Do you really need the whole thing?"

"All this and more," Hansel said, nodding at the second wrapped lump of meat. "I don't often have time to stop and make this. Do you have a mortar and pestle that won't be ruined by blood?"

Philip stood and went to a cabinet, retrieving a large set. "That wasn't quite what I meant," he said, bringing them back to Hansel and watching as he set about grinding the meat up fine. "I can see separations in the organ as you cut, and it's not fully drained of blood, either. Does all of that contribute to your preparation, or could it be removed, the remainder made more pure?"

Hansel frowned even as he continued grinding. "I don't know," he admitted. "This is how I learned to do it." 

Philip hummed thoughtfully and continued to watch as Hansel worked. When the grinding was done, Hansel set a glass flask of water to warm, dissolving one of the other ingrediants in it, then submerging the organ meat and letting the whole thing sit--not warm enough to cook--for awhile while he set about mixing the rest of the herbs and powders Philip had retrieved into a second flask, which he brought to a boil. When there were no grains of powder left at the bottom of that flask, he strained out the leaves and left it to cool while he carefully used the separator to divide the flask with the meat. It was tricky, getting as much of the liquid out as he could without also skimming off the meat itself, which was degrading slowly at the bottom of the flask. When he did this at camp, Hansel could never manage it quite well enough, leaving him with the awful cloudy mixture that was almost worse than the sugar sickness.

But Philip's equipment was excellent, and his workshop was quiet, and this time when Hansel finally poured the separated liquid into the second flask and stirred it gently, it was a clearer, paler brown than he'd ever managed before. He sighed with satisfaction and nodded to Philip. "That's the whole process. I'd like to repeat it, though, if you can spare me the time." 

"I can spare the time," Philip said slowly, reaching out and shooting Hansel a inquiring look. Reluctantly, Hansel let Philip take the flask. Their fingers brushed as it changed hands and Philip's eyes caught briefly on Hansel's before the apothecary turned toward the lamp that lit the room and raised the flask, tilting it back and forth for a moment while he peered at it. "But," he turned and held the flask out to Hansel, "I have an alternate proposition."

Hansel took the flask back, perhaps a little quickly to be polite. He spoke while he dug his injection canisters out of his pack and set about filling them. "What sort of proposition?"

"If you can stay in town for a week or two," Philip suggested, "I think I might be able to help you improve the solution."

"Improve?" Hansel finished filling the second canister and looked up to frown at Philip for a moment. "Improve how? It works."

"Given that you're here, asking to use my equipment, instead of a making it at camp, it doesn't always work the same," Philip pointed out. "I believe that we could make it purer, making the injections smaller. It's possible we could even extend the effective time for each dose."

Smaller injections that lasted longer would mean longer intervals between preparations, and a greater range for their team. It wasn't something Hansel could say no to, even if the apothecary offering had been suspicious. But Philip had been patient, not asking too many questions or pressing when Hansel refused to answer, and remembering that was a relief when the only answer he could give was, "All right. We can spare a week." It was longer than Gretel had wanted to stay in town, but not entirely out of order when they needed to gather information and resupply. Hansel looked at the still-wrapped second organ and frowned. "If we're to experiment, I suppose we will need to spare this," he nodded at it, "as well." That was an expense that would be difficult to justify.

The apothecary shook his head. "It was my request to experiment," he said. "I will cover the cost of materials. Regardless, I'm not so irresponsible a man as to leave you without sufficient medication if the experiments are unsuccessful."

Hansel pressed his lips into a hard line. He had never called it medication, had never said it was for himself. But Philip was an intelligent man, and if he hadn't already guessed, he certainly would have when they were in the midst of improving it. "Thank you," Hansel said eventually. "In which case, I should repeat the process and return to camp. We can meet again tomorrow."

Philip nodded. "I would like to take notes this time, if you have no objection."

"You're going to have to, if we're going to be working on improving it," Hansel said, shrugging. He often worked with a blacksmith to create the weapons he and Gretel used in their hunts, creating designs and hammering out what could be built and what could not. Notes were a necessity, if they didn't want to end up repeating their work and wasting materials in the process.

Philip thanked him and retrieved a notebook, and Hansel went to work again. This time the apothecary asked many more questions, though he kept them strictly on the topic of the preparation and delivery method of Hansel's injections.

Hansel found himself waiting for more personal inquiries, and wondered if he could respond with a question or two of his own; Philip was not much like other apothecaries he'd known. But the moment never came and soon Hansel was screwing the last injection canister shut and loading it into his bag while Philip began cleaning up the equipment. When the medicine was safely stowed, Hansel joined him. They cleaned in silence for a while, and though Hansel wouldn't say it was comfortable, it wasn't uncomfortable either. 

He set the last piece back in its place and turned to the apothecary. "When should I return? I assume you must consider your customers." 

"There is a young woman I employ," Philip said. "I'll ask her for more time for the next few days so that we can work, if that is acceptable."

Hansel started to agree, then paused. "Will she be able to hear us?" he asked. The back room was a good size, but it didn't seem so large that their voices wouldn't carry to the front, and the curtain wasn't much of a barrier.

Philip frowned. "Not if we keep our voices down," he said. "But we could work elsewhere. I have a small house. It would certainly be more private, though we'd have to go back and forth for equipment and materials."

Hansel weighed the inconvenience of transport and the risk of being alone in the company of a man who was demonstrably interested in his medication against the benefits of privacy. In the end, he shook his head; Philip seemed like a good man, but he was still a stranger. "I can be quiet."

"Very well," Philip replied. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning," Hansel agreed. They would take the supplies back to camp and he could check in with Gretel, since this hadn't been in their plan.

With their next meeting arranged, Hansel bid the apothecary goodbye and took his pack, medication safely stowed, back to the tavern where he would meet Ben.

Negotiating for the use of the smokehouse and preparing the meat hadn't taken long, it seemed, because the boy had had enough time to get himself fair drunk before Hansel arrived. Sighing, Hansel hauled the boy to his feet, paid the tab, and all but carried him back to camp. To his credit, Ben remembered to slur the details of the smokehouse arrangement on the way, and it was a good deal.

When they arrived back at camp, Gretel laughed. "It's not often that you're the one hauling your companion back to camp," she teased. "I have my revenge for all the years I dealt with your drunkenness!"

"And when did you ever have to haul me further than a flight of stairs to our room?" Hansel challenged, lowering Ben to his bedroll. "There are downsides to camping outside of town." At least he'd have Gretel with him tomorrow, gathering information while he worked with the apothecary. Speaking of which-- "I have an appointment tomorrow morning. You'll need to start gathering the gossip without me."

"You mean Ben will start gethering the gossip," Gretel said, impatiently. "And you really shouldn't have made an appointment, Hansel. Ben is still new at this, and we don't need new weapons right now."

"We always need new weapons," Hansel said automatically, but he knew what she meant: they couldn't _afford_ new weapons right now. He opened his mouth to tell her that that wasn't what the meeting was about, but a bolt of uncertainty gave him pause. What if she thought changing his medication was a waste of their strapped resources? Any improvement would help with that, but she'd spent so long looking for a cure, she might dismiss the chance. Or she might decide it was too dangerous, Hansel too fragile to risk to any change. Worse, what if she was pleased, excited, and it didn't work? Hansel wasn't sure he could handle seeing disappointment in her eyes when she looked at him. 

So when he spoke, what Hansel said was, "I'm not paying to have them made, Gretel, just tossing some ideas back and forth with the blacksmith." He swallowed the suggestion that Gretel come along instead of Ben, if the boy still needed guidance. Ben was less likely to notice Hansel wasn't seeing the blacksmith at all.

Gretel pursed her lips. "And you aren't going to get carried away?"

Hansel scowled, but couldn't argue with her skepticism; getting carried away was how they'd ended up with an automatic gun, though that had proven its worth, in the end. "Do you want me to leave my purse with you?"

Gretel hesitated and Hansel felt his heart plunge. "No, of course not," she said, but she'd considered it and, he was sure, had only refrained from the request to save his pride, not because of confidence in him.

Dropping to his bed roll, Hansel turned his back to the fire--and Gretel on the other side of it--and closed his eyes even though the frustration churing in his belly meant he wasn't going to sleep any time soon. The worst part was, she wasn't wrong. Hansel _did_ tend to spend on weapons when he got excited over a new design. It used to amuse Gretel, even when they had to tighten their belts to make ends meet. But they had two more people to support now, even though Edward largely took care of himself. _I am capable of restraining myself,_ Hansel told himself, glaring into the dark. _She shouldn't doubt me. I know we must plan differently now._

Silently, Hansel prayed that the improvements to the formula were successful. Longer stretches of time between injections would save them a lot of money, on top of everything else.

***

Hansel was up with the first light of dawn the next morning, briskly setting out for town before the others had finished cooking breakfast. Ben started to protest, relucant to see Hansel off when he wasn't ready himself, but Hansel broke in before he could finish. "My appointment is early," he said. "I'll take rooms for us at the inn and you can meet me there in the evening; the common room is a good place to linger and listen for information."

Ben looked uncertain, and Gretel frowned for a moment, but thankfully they let it go. The walk to town took just long enough that the sun had come fully over the horizon by the time he arrived. Hansel hesitated for a moment by a stall selling sticks of fried dough, but moved on quickly. _If I wanted breakfast_ , he told himself, _I should have had it at camp._

The apothecary's shop was open. Philip was not alone, but his companion, a young woman with dark brown hair and an angularity to her shape, was behind the counter with him. The assistant he'd mentioned, then, rather than a customer.

Philip looked up and smiled when he saw Hansel, nodding in greeting. The open welcome prompted an unexpected flare of happiness through Hansel. He barely managed to nod back. 

"Margeth," Philip said, turning back to the woman, "my appointment is here. I'll be in the back room if you have any questions."

Margeth nodded, but her expression was one of patience, not nerves. "I will be fine, Philip," she said. "I may not experiment the way you do, but I know the shop just as well. Rest easy."

"Thank you," Philip said. When he turned back to Hansel, there was a wry tilt to his mouth, but he said nothing, instead retrieving a notebook from a locked box before leading Hansel behind the curtain and into his workshop once again. "Margeth is trustworthy," he said in a low voice, leaning closer, "but if you wish not to be heard, we should speak like this."

Philip smelled of herbs and soap, and Hansel swore he could feel the warmth of him, though surely they weren't that close. He took another quick breath and spoke quietly to match. "Thank you." They moved to the table and sat side by side. Hansel turned slightly so that he could meet Philip's eyes. "Have you an idea where to start?"

"I have," Philip said. He over to a wooden box that had been set on the table and opened it, revealing a waxed paper package. He lifted it out and re-sealed the box tightly before handing the package to Hansel. Remarkably, it was cool to the touch. "I prevailed upon a friend of mine to break off part of an ice block he's been keeping since winter," Philip explained. "With straw and a cool, dark place, it will last him nearly the whole summer. My smaller piece will not do as well, but it is enough to keep your materials while we work."

"I never told you what portion of the animal I required," Hansel said as he opened the package.

"I know. But I also know the shape of the organs well enough to guess it was one of these two." Philip said as two pieces of meat were reveled. "Liver," he said, indicating one organ, "or pancreas," indicating the other.

Hansel couldn't help but be impressed by how close Philip had come. "Pancreas," he confirmed.

Philip flashed him a smile. "If you like, we can make lunch of the liver."

Hansel laughed. "Nothing wasted," he said. "Gretel and I learned that well enough."

Philip shot him a quick look, but if he had a question in mind, he set it aside. "I'm certain you can't stay in one place for too long," he said, re-wrapping the liver and returnng it to the cold box, "and I think we would both prefer to go through as few animals as possible. Therefore, I propose that we divide the pancreas into portions small enough for two doses. Each of these we will divide again, one to be prepared by your normal method, the other made with one isolated change to the process." 

Hansel nodded enthusiastically. "Depending on how many doses a single organ makes, we should be able to test several changes in parallel," he finished.

"Exactly." Philip started to say something, then stopped himself. "So, for the first change--"

This was foolish. "Philip," Hansel cut him off. "I know I was not inclined to personal questions, before. But we're going to be working together, on the most personal possible project to me. You don't have to stifle yourself quite so diligently."

Meeting Hansel's gaze for a long moment, Philip eventually nodded. "Thank you. I was going to ask if you had some experience with designing preparations like this one--you seemed familiar with the process."

"Not medicines or potions," Hansel said. "Weapons. Guns and bows, mostly, but a few more unusual ones as well. When something isn't working right, making one change at a time is how you figure it out. It wasn't much of a leap from there to making one change to each of several doses."

Philip looked impressed. "I didn't realize you developed your own weapons."

Hansel shrugged and dropped his gaze. "I work with a blacksmith."

"But not always the same blacksmith," Philip guessed. "So most of the expertise is yours. And the designs."

Hansel could feel his cheeks heat. "I suppose so," he said, ducking his head. "You were saying something about the first change?"

He thought that Philip might press the point, but instead he just paused before returning to their work. "I thought we should see if different parts of the organ had a different effect," he said. "I made a sketch--" he withdrew a piece of paper from his pocked and unfolded it, revealing a meticulous drawing of the pancreas. Hansel leaned forward over the bench, following the motions of Philip's graceful fingers as he described the parts of the pancreas, the small differences that nevertheless could be seen in several parts of the same organ.

Philip quickly showed himself to be an intelligent and careful man. Together they decided how the organ should be divided, eventually choosing four pieces. With the divisions made, they each selected a set of tools from Philip's array and set about preparing the doses.

Hansel glanced over at Philip often, intending to check that he was carrying out the process correctly. But he quickly found his gaze lingering on clever fingers and drifting up over forearms bared by Philip's rolled up sleeves. Realizing how his eyes had strayed, Hansel jerked them back to his own work and fought down a blush. He could hardly afford such... distraction when it came to this man. The prospect of smaller, longer lasting injections was too important to risk.

When they were done, Hansel found himself with four injections to test and paused, stymied for a moment.

"Is there a problem?" Philip asked, forehead creasing. 

"Not so much a problem as a limitation," Hansel admitted. "I take my injections three times a day. If we prepare more than that, we'll quickly out-pace my ability to test our efforts."

Philip frowned and hummed thoughtfully. "Is there anything you could do to increase your need for them?" Hansel hesitated and Philip's frown eased. "We can always prepare additional medication if we need to use your supply too often," he reassured.

Hansel scrubbed a hand through his hair. "We'll strip the town of their livestock," he muttered. Surely people would wonder. And if Gretel heard...

"It's not such a small town," Philip assured him. "And it may not be a problem at all. If the part of the pancreas makes no difference, we can use much smaller portions for our tests in the future, so that we may only need one or two more organs."

Hansel blew a breath between his teeth considered Philip for a long moment. The apothecary waited patiently, no judgment in his expression. Hansel nodded to himself. "Sugar," he said. "I need the shots more often if I have eaten any sugar."

He left unspoken that he rarely indulged in sweets at all. Their taste soured on his tongue, like bile. The thought of forcing down handfuls of them made a chill run down his spine, a witch's cackle echo in his ears.

After a moment, Hansel realized that Philip hadn't responded, and forced himself to toss the apothecary an inquiring look.

"I don't think it would be wise to for you to overindulge in sweets," Philip said eventually. "We want to speed the process, not shock your body. But fruits have their own natural sugars. Tea with honey, perhaps, or jam."

A rush of relief went through Hansel and he found himself smiling more broadly at Philip than he really meant to. "That would work."

Philip returned the smile, and Hansel all but caught his breath at the way it made his eyes warm. "All right then," Philip said, "how much time is left before your next dose?"

Hansel checked his timer. There were a couple of hours yet remaining, so Philip stepped out of the shop for a few moments and returned with jam sandwiches, the bread all but sliding apart around the thick layer of spread. Hansel set one of his regular injections on the table, just in case, and ate quickly--jam was better than candy, but he still preferred salty snacks to sweet ones.

With the sugar throwing off his timer, he had to wait for the lightheadedness and creeping weakness to come in order to know when he needed an injection. It was a struggle not to snatch up a shot as soon as he felt the first symptom, but they needed to know how the new shots truly worked, how quickly and how well. For that, they needed more symptoms to work against. Closing his eyes, Hansel forced himself to breathe. God, he _hated_ this weakness!

"Your regular injection is here, if you need it," Philip said quietly, and Hansel felt the familiar cool metal nudge his fingers. He didn't exactly relax, but it made waiting easier knowing it was there.

When the time came for the shot, the experimental version worked just as it always did. Perhaps a hair faster, but that was due to the quality of Philip's equipment; the doses Hansel had prepared the day before had done the same last night.

Philip bent to his notes, and together the two of them documented their work and brainstormed ideas for additional alterations as they waited for Hansel's system to even out. He had never tried to force his episodes before; better to let his body have an hour or two of normality before starting back in on the jam sandwiches.

Despite that caution, by the time Hansel administered the fourth shot, late that evening, he was exhausted and shaky. The shot worked the same, he thought, but... "I feel like I've been trampled," he confessed to Philip. "All my muscles ache, and I think if I eat another jam sandwich, I might throw up."

"Nausea?" Philip asked, concerned. 

"Not as such, I'm just sick of them," Hansel said, attempting a wry smile. 

"I can make peppermint tea," Philip said, and was ducking back out to the front of the shop before Hansel could answer. Margeth had gone home hours before. 

Philip returned with tea leaves and peppermint, as well as a kettle. One of the burners from his collection worked well enough to heat it, and soon he was pouring cups of tea to steep for the both of them. The scent soothed Hansel, even if he wasn't truly sick. "How did you come to be an apothecary?" he asked as they waited for the tea to steep.

"It was my mother's trade," Philip said. He didn't smile, though, instead staring into his tea cup. "I grew up in her shop and began helping her before I can even remember. And I hated it." He took a moment to strain the leaves first out of his tea and then out of Hansel's. "I wanted to work for my father," Philip went on, sipping his tea. "He was a travelling tinker. I imagined all the lands he saw in his wanderings and I wanted to see them, too. He was always bringing home odd gadgets and I wanted to go where they came from."

"But your mother needed the help?" Hansel asked softly.

Philip shrugged. "Perhaps. I think it was more than my father didn't want the company. He always said that the road was no place for a child. He said so until I was a teenager, and perhaps he was right, because one day he simply never came home. There was no business without his tools, so in the shop I stayed." Philip smiled, then, though it was a bit stiff. "It's a good shop, and I am happy. All children want adventure, I suppose."

"Maybe," Hansel said, though he didn't remember feeling that way as a boy. "But that doesn't mean that wanting adventure is childish." The way Philip colored told Hansel that he was right in his guess that the apothecary still dreamed about travel and far off lands, even if he had a shop and a life in this town.

Hansel continued to sip his tea as they chatted, waiting for his stomach to settle and his muscles to feel less worn. He could have made it back to camp, of course. He'd made longer treks in worse condition. But there was no need to push himself, and Ben might wonder what he was getting up to if he returned to the room looking so worn. Discussions with the blacksmith certainly shouldn't wear Hansel out. 

So instead Hansel sat chatting with Philip through two cups of tea and the liver that they ate together, once he felt well enough to put something more substantial than jam and bread in his stomach. There was something inviting about the way Philip told stories, and Hansel found himself venturing a tale or two of his own. A spike of regret when through him when he realized that he was feeling quite normal, after finishing the liver. But he gathered up his copy of the notes they had made and said goodnight, anyway.

It was dark out, just a few torches lighting Hansel's way back to the inn, where light spilled out from the dining room. There were a few people on the streets, likely merchants headed home after spending the first dark hours preparing for their customers the next morning. Ducking into the inn, Hansel realized he needn't have worried about Ben noticing his weariness; Ben was quite drunk, cheerfully trading tall tales with the men at his table. His tales were less exaggerated than the others', but they didn't seem to realize that. Towns that had not seen witches often found the stories difficult to credit.

Hansel almost went over to haul the boy up to their rooms, but he stopped himself. Ben was nearly a grown man, and a man needed to learn when to stop drinking and how to make connections. He wouldn't learn if Hansel made all the calls, and might resent it as well. So instead Hansel went to the innkeeper and leant over the bar for a word. "How many has he had?" he asked, pointing at Ben.

"Just two," the innkeeper said. "He's small, it doesn't take much."

Hansel nodded. "Don't serve him past four, all right?"

The innkeeper nodded and Hansel patted the bar and gave his thanks before heading up to the room. Just because Ben needed to learn didn't mean he needed to run down their coin in the process.

***

By the end of the second day experimenting on Hansel's medication, the enforced quiet of the shop had grown irritating. Philip had to remind Hansel to lower his voice several times, and the steady flow of fruit and jam sandwiches into the back room must have seemed odd to Margeth. It was a relief when she locked up the shop for the day and they could speak normally.

"I've been cautious in entirely the wrong way," Hansel finally said, as he dug into the stew he'd bought to lend strength to his limbs after the day's experiments. Philip shot him an inquiring look, his own mouth full of stew, and Hansel waved his spoon at the curtained archway that led to the front of the shop. "Working here, with all the whispering," he explained. "You've been more mindful of my concerns than I have, today. We might as well move to your house, tomorrow, if the offer is still open."

"Of course," Philip said. He paused and smiled tentatively. "And thank you."

Hansel raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

Philip shrugged. "Your trust." He dropped his gaze to his food.

Warmth bloomed in Hansel's chest, and he smiled, but all he could think to say was, "You're welcome."

***

In the morning, following instructions Philip had given the night before, Hansel found his way from the inn to a very small but neatly kept house quite some distance from the central square of the town. Philip opened the door to his knock and ushered him inside, revealing a sitting room with two curtained doorways. "It's small," Philip said, "but private. Come, I've set up the equipment in the kitchen; there's a stone counter there."

Hansel followed Philip through one of the curtains an into a kitchen that was nearly as large as the sitting room--not that either were of any great size. There was a tall wooden table in addition to the stone counter, but it was clearly meant as a work surface, not a place for a family to eat. Meals would have to be taken in the sitting room.

At the moment, the counters were covered with Philip's tools: several warming flasks and burners, and four different types of separator, Philip's theory being that the brown cloudiness was entirely unnecessary, and that whatever it was that helped Hansel, it leeched out of the pancreas invisibly and everything else was only a contaminant. It made sense, given that the clearer formula Hansel made with proper equipment was invariably better than that which he could make at camp.

Having used only half a pancreas the day before, Philip retrieved the other half from the small ice box he'd acquired and the two of them set about grinding each portion into a paste. Hansel told himself to keep his eyes on his work, but it was monotonous, and Philip being there was new, and there was something about the intentness of his expression... Hansel suppressed the urge to shake his head and dragged his focus back to the grinding.

After a minute of working industriously with their mortars and pestels, Philip chuckled to himself. "Something amusing?" Hansel asked.

Philip caught his eye, his smile taking on a sheepish edge. "I was just thinking that this is the most use my kitchen has seen in some time," he admitted. "The food vendors on my shop's street know me well."

Hansel chuckled, too. "If it makes you feel better," he said, "this is the first kitchen I've seen in years. Well, as long as you don't count a witch's kitchen, but I don't think ovens large enough for a child--or a witch--should count."

Philip's eyebrows flew up, and for a moment Hansel thought he'd gone too far. But then Philip said, with apparent seriousness, "A baker's oven could easily fit a person. Do they not count, either?"

Hansel snorted a laugh. "Of course not! That's a bakery, not a kitchen," he said, smirking.

"Such precision," Philip teased. Together they divided each of their portions of ground pancreas into two, for a total of four, and setting them aside while the prepared four flasks for the leeching process. "So what do you call a witch's kitchen, then?"

Hansel paused in the act of stirring the leeching herb into a flask. 

"Hansel?" Philip asked after a moment, concern in his voice.

Shaking his head, Hansel set the one flask aside and prepared another. "A trap," he said, his eyes on the dissolving powder. "You call a witch's kitchen a trap."

Philip laid a warm, strong hand on Hansel's forearm. "A trap for the witch, from what I've heard," he said. 

Hansel looked up, meeting Philip's steady gaze, but said nothing for a moment. He knew that when he replied, Philip would remove his hand, and the contact felt so nice: the absent stroke of his thumb over Hansel's skin, the simple, wordless way it spoke of support. Philip didn't rush him, either, didn't prompt him to answer or withdraw the touch. 

But there was work to do, and so eventually Hansel nodded, letting his mouth turn up at the corner even if it wasn't really a smile. "That it is," he agreed, and turned his attention back to his work. Philip followed suit, leaving a ghost of contact on Hansel's arm. "Not that all witches are the type to live in cottages and lure children with sweets."

"Aren't they?" Philip asked. Hansel glanced up, expecting Philip to be concentrating on mixing the second flask for the medicine, the question an absent conversation point only. But he wasn't--his eyes were on Hansel, clear and curious.

So Hansel shook his head and started to explain about the types of witches they'd encountered. Swamp witches and water witches and rock witches and more, all while they set the bits of pancreas leeching in their flasks and start mixing the second part of the preparation. Somehow, the litany of witches led to tales of unpleasant customers--a particularly bitter and ungrateful woman might have bridged the gap--and Hansel found himself alternately laughing and staring at Philip in stunned disbelief at the demands made of the apothecary.

"Virgin _what?_ " Hansel asked, incredulous.

"The spit of a virgin fish, my hand to God," Philip said, shaking his head. "I tried to explain that fish can't be virgins, to which she took great offense. Then I tried explaining that they were incapable of spitting, but she claimed to have witnessed that personally."

"Why not just tell her you didn't have any?" Hansel asked, leaning against the counter while the flasks heated.

"I did!" Philip said. "But she kept coming back!" Hansel started laughing. "You wouldn't laugh if you'd been there," Philip went on, but his lips were twitching, too. "In the end I re-labelled a bottle of fish oil and she left quite satisfied. I shudder to think what it was for."

"That's not the worst part."

"Oh?" Philip raised his eyebrows.

Hansel shrugged. "She didn't come back after that, so she must have gotten what she wanted. What sort of thing calls for 'the spit of a virgin fish'?"

Philip's expression twisted in distaste. "You're right, that is worse."

"My apologies," Hansel said, chuckling. He nodded at the flasks. "I think it's time to separate the leeching flasks and mix the injections."

The first flask they separated as normal, to ensure that they hadn't made some other change in the process. The other three went through new methods: one drained through cheesecloth rather than skimmed off from above, one pressed down with a fine mesh before being skimmed off, and the last tipped into a device Hansel had never seen before. It had two capsules around a hub, and a crank. Philip poured equal amounts from the flask into each capsule before vigorously turning the crank, causing the capsules to spin rapidly around the hub. After a few minutes of spinning, Philip stopped the device and let the capsules drain. The liquid that poured out of them was the clearest Hansel had ever seen--there was almost no color at all, and certainly no cloudiness.

"The meat is heavier than the liquid," Philip explained. "The spinning throws it to the far end of the capsule, leaving the liquid behind. I've a great deal of hope for this method." He patted the device.

"Then let's leave it for the last test," Hansel suggested. "When I am tired and worn. It will make it all the more obvious if it works better."

"I'd be happier if you didn't have to become worn at all," Philip said, dropping his gaze.

Hansel reached out, touched his wrist gently. "All in a good cause."

If Philip meant to answer, he was cut off by the buzzing of the timer on Hansel's wrist. Quickly, they mixed the injection prepared by the usual method and Hansel applied it. He grimaced as it went in, still warm. "Sometimes," he told Philip, "I think too long about what I am doing and it just about turns my stomach."

"Because it's made from an animal?" Philip asked as he mixed the rest of the injections and set them to cool.

Hansel nodded.

"The way I see it," Philip said, "it's no different than rubbing animal fat on your joints to ease pain, or using the lining of an egg to seal a cut. There is something in the animal that your body can't make, that's all."

Hansel frowned, absently rubbing at the place where he'd injected himself, though it didn't actually hurt. He'd had far too much practice for that. "You mean that my body can't make anymore," he said. "Because of the witch."

Philip finished with the last flask and led Hansel back into the sitting room, the two of them sitting while they waited to see if the effect of the injection was as normal. "No," he said. "I don't think so. I've seen children who ate so many sweets that their teeth rotted away who didn't become sick as you did. I think your body was never well suited to sugar, and that being made to eat so much of it brought the lack forth, perhaps made it more severe."

"I'm not sure I like the thought of that," Hansel admitted. "If it was something done to me, then that's like a wound that refuses to heal. If it's an inborn defect--" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together. Then it was his own weakness. Not a badge of honor, something that he survived, but proof of his feebleness.

Philip leaned forward, catching Hansel's gaze. "It's no shame on you," he said intently. "If anything, it's proof of your _strength_ , that though your body looks constantly to betray you, you make it serve you instead. I--" Philip paused, cleared his throat. "I admire that. Very much."

Hansel felt his face heat, and hoped the flush didn't show. "I'm-- glad," he managed awkwardly. Usually men like Philip, educated men, saw him as little more than a thug. The ordinary men of the villages they helped saw him as a threat, violent and strange and unwelcome among their families. The closest he'd come to admiration was Ben's hero worship. And Mina.

Hansel ducked his head. "I should probably start eating jam sandwiches," he said reluctantly.

"I thought we might try something else today," Philip replied. He went back to the kitchen and returned with sweet tea and an array of fruit. Hansel flashed him a smile, and found it returned with clear warmth.

Despite the exhausting rise and fall of Hansel's energy with the application of the shots and stuffing himself with fruit and tea, the day seemed to fly by. To their shared triumph, the shots took effect much faster and seemd to require more food to wear down, with the one prepared by spinning working best of all. And Philip's home was a much more pleasant place to pass the time than the shop, though they spoke more of their families and Philip's collection of books than of the next day's experiments.

Hansel hesitated on Philip's door step when it came time to leave. 

"You could rest here tonight," Philip suggested when the pause went on. "Get an early start tomorrow."

Temptation tugged at Hansel, but he shook his head in the end. "Ben is waiting back at the inn," he said. 

Philip nodded. "Of course. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Hansel confirmed, and paused only a moment more before taking his leave.

***

The next day they tried varying the length of time the pancreas was left leeching, but if there was any change in the effect, it was so small as to be unmeasureable. It should have been a discouraging day, but despite the lack of progress and the inevitable exhaustion, Hansel found himself leaving Philip's home feeling relaxed.

He walked back to the inn with his eyes raised, watching the stars, rather than watching his feet as he often did. It was a beautiful night, not something he could often say. Most nights, all he could think of was the witches who thrived in the dark. But tonight there were the stars, and the slowing murmur of the life of the village. For a moment, Hansel could understand the appeal of settling down.

He felt relaxed enough that, opening the door to the inn, he thought he might join Ben for a drink this night. He hadn't before, always feeling too ill after forcing his body to the edge so many times. But when Hansel stepped into the inn's common room Ben wasn't there. Frowning, he jogged up the stairs. Ben had been enjoying the chance to be social these last few days; why wouldn't he be there now?

"Ben, is everything--" Hansel started as he opened the door to their room. But it wasn't Ben. "Gretel. Is everything well at camp?"

"No problems," Gretel said, but there was a tightness in her voice. "And is all going well with the blacksmith?"

"Reasonably well," Hansel said carefully.

Gretel tilted her head. "I'm surprised to hear that," she said. "Since I went to visit the blacksmith today, and you were not there. Indeed, the blacksmith did not recognize your name." Hansel winced and looked away. "Ben tells me you never return to the room before dark," Gretel went on. "So if you are not at the blacksmith, where have you been?"

Hansel crossed the room slowly and sat on the other bed, opposite her. He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't tell her, not yet. He couldn't bear to hear it if she thought he was wasting his time. But he couldn't lie to her again. "I've been working with the apothecary," he said slowly. "He had an idea yesterday, when I went to buy supplies for my injections, that he thought might help us."

Gretel leaned forward. "What sort of suggestion? A poison? A cleanse? Why not tell me?"

"Because it's something new," Hansel said, shrugging and looking down at his hands. "And I'm still not sure it will work."

"And you still don't want to tell me," Gretel said, sighing and sitting back. "Hansel, haven't we learned that knowing is better than not knowing?"

"This isn't the same," Hansel said sharply. "If it doesn't work we are no better off, but no worse either. There is nothing about this that can hurt us."

"How can you be sure of that?" Gretel shot back. "You didn't think we needed to talk about it before, either."

"Do you not trust my judgment, then?" Hansel demanded, flushing.

"Of course I trust you," Gretel said, "but I've also learned that we are stronger when we work together. What benefit is there in keeping me out of this?"

"I am capable of accomplishing something without you," Hansel said shortly. "If you're concerned about our operation, maybe keep a closer eye on Ben. He's been enjoying _gathering information_ rather a lot." Getting drunk with the locals was how they most often gathered information, but the idea that she would pick at him when the boy was stumbling through a task that should have been _hers_ burned.

Gretel stood, tugging on her tunic. "I have spoken to Ben twice since you took rooms in town. It's you I've been in the dark about. I'm going back to camp. Ben will return tomorrow."

"Gretel," Hansel started, but she ducked out of the room without looking back, and he slumped down onto his bed, unwilling to chase her in front of all the villagers in the common room. "Stupid," he told himself, sighing. Gretel had never cared how broken he was, not even when they were children and he sometimes had to rest for days before they could move on. Why should she care now? Except that there were two strong, healthy backs to help her shoulder her burdens, now. They weren't alone anymore.

Hansel looked around the small room and its empty second bed.

Gretel wasn't alone, anyway.

Tugging off his boots and draping his coat over a chair, Hansel pulled the covers up over himself without bothering to undress further. He turned his back to the otherwise empty room. "She'd never leave you behind," he told the quiet, empty night. "You're family. Blood." He just had to get used to the idea that he wasn't the center of her world anymore. She had more to think of than just him.

***

The next morning, Hansel couldn't help but look over his shoulder as he made his way to Philip's home, remembering how Gretel had been looking for him the previous day. If she asked at the apothecary shop, would Margeth tell her where Philip lived? Did he _want_ her to be told? It would prove that he really was working with an apothecary, but it might also make her suspicious of what was so important that they would work outside the shop itself.

Hansel knew he was tense and sharp when he greeted Philip, but though he waited while Hansel removed his boots to spare the floors, Philip took no offense and didn't demand an explanation, only led him to the kitchen.

"I have a couple of different herbs I'd like to try adding to the leeching flasks this time," Philip said, showing Hansel a set of packets that he must have brought from the shop. "I'm hoping that, whatever it is in the pancreas that helps you, these will bring more of it out."

"All right," Hansel said, reaching for one of the pieces of pancreas to start preparing it.

They worked for several minutes in silence. Hansel couldn't think how to break it. 

The pancreas was leeching and the second set of flasks were mixed when Philip spoke: "Is there anything I can do?" His voice was quiet and steady. 

Hansel let out a slow breath, his nerves easing, and shook his head. "No more than you are." Part of him wanted to talk about the... it wasn't really a fight. The... disagreement with Gretel. But that was family business; he didn't doubt that she hadn't said a word about it to Edward or Ben. Of course, the disagreement itself wasn't really the problem, was it? "My sister is all I have," Hansel said eventually. "For a long time, I was all she had, too."

"And that's not true anymore," Philip said. Hansel shrugged. "It's harder to be alone when the people around you are making connections," Philip added, gently.

"Voice of experience?" Hansel asked. It wasn't much of a question; it was obvious from Philip's home and the way they had gone undisturbed the past few days that he had no spouse and no one calling on him, or waiting for him to call on them.

Philip gave him a wry smile. "When my peers were having their first crushes and courting, I was trying to pester my father into taking me along on his travels. What was the point of having a sweetheart in a town I was intent on leaving? By the time I realized I wasn't going anywhere, most everyone was married and the few who weren't had decided I was a cold fish."

A timer went off and the two of them moved to separate the leeching flasks and mix the final injections. Hansel kept his eyes on his work as he spoke. "How do you deal with it? The being alone."

"I work a lot," Philip said. "I take manuscripts to pubs and sit in a corner and read and let myself be around people, even if they aren't there for me."

Subsisting on scraps of company not entirely meant for him. At least Hansel still had some moments with his sister, and even Ben's attentive eagerness to learn. The flasks mixed, they left them to cool and Hansel made himself look at Philip. He was studying the row of flasks with a resigned weariness in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. "I wish I could promise I'd be back this way, after I go," Hansel said softly. "But I can't."

Philip just nodded. "I know." He shrugged and looked up at Hansel with a small smile. "That doesn't make it any less pleasant to have had some company these past days."

Hansel made himself smile back. "Likewise." The buzzer on his wrist sounded and he reached down and automatically reset it. "Shall we load these into into the injection canisters and give them a try?"

Philip nodded and quickly prepared an injection, his hands moving with now-familiar certainty. Hansel leaned against the counter as he waited, feeling weakness wash over him in quickly swelling waves. But Philip had the first injection ready; he shot Hansel an inquiring look and Hansel nodded. He didn't flinch at the plunge of the needle into his muscle, too familiar with the quick shock of it. The press of the plunger and the sudden cold sensation around the injection site were familiar, too. He waited for the rush as his body stabilized and strength returned. And waited. "Slow," he told Philip through clenched teeth. Another wave of weakness crashed over him and he found his knees giving out, leaving him to slide down the side of the counter to sit on the floor.

"Hansel!" Philip grabbed for the control injection, prepared with no changes.

"Try another," Hansel said, breathless.

"It's not working, you need--"

"I'm not so weak as that," Hansel snapped, though the fog encroaching on his mind argued the point. "I can stand a minute or so. Test another, or we'll have to wait and do this again."

Philip was white as a sheet, but he set his jaw and reached for a second injection. Again the plunge of the needle, again the cold rush of the fluid into his body. Hansel waited, but there was no return of strength, no ease of the sickening drain that ate at him. Instead, the coolness seemed to spread through him. "I don't think those herbs were a good idea, Philip," he said, listing to the side. Even sitting upright seemed too hard with his muscles going so liquid. Hansel started to tip over, but strong hands caught him. Philip said something, but it seemed so far away... Hansel's eyes drifted shut. Maybe he'd just sleep a while.

He almost didn't register the third injection. Certainly it didn't feel any cooler than the rest of his body. But a moment later clarity rushed back to him, as though he'd surfaced from a deep pool. He gasped, eyes flying open, and found Philip crouched in front of him, his hands framing Hansel's face. "Hansel!" Philip cried out when his eyes opened. "Are you okay? Did it work?" One of his thumbs swept over Hansel's cheekbone.

"I'm fine," Hansel said, though he still felt shaky and suspected it showed in his voice. "It works fast."

"Thank God," Philip said, his whole face easing with relief. He rested his forehead against Hansel's, not letting go of him otherwise. "I thought I'd killed you. I thought-- It's one thing to lose you to the road and another to lose you altogether."

Slowly, Hansel raised a hand and touched Philips' cheek. There had been something in his voice... "I'm all right," he said, softer now.

Philip pulled back just enough to meet Hansel's gaze, his expression at once both helpless and determined. He leaned in, the movements stuttering for a moment, just long enough for Hansel to realize what was happening, and then they were kissing. 

The plush, hot press of Philip's lips was the same as Mina's had been, but there was a roughness to his skin brushing Hansel's that vibrantly different. _Stubble,_ Hansel realized even as he sank into the kiss. It wasn't a bad difference, not at all. Hesitantly, he parted his lips, and Philip eagerly accepted the invitation. Hansel moaned, his hand sliding over to cup the back of Philip's neck, holding him steady. Or maybe steadying himself, Hansel wasn't sure. 

Heat uncoiled in his belly as the kiss went on. Philip didn't seem inclined to stop; rather than pull back or straighten up, he eased himself down to kneel astride Hansel's legs, almost sitting on them. Eventually Hansel let his hands move to rest on Philip's hips, his head tipped back a bit as Philip leaned down to kiss him.

Long minutes later, when both of them were breathless with arousal, Philip finally broke the caress and sat back enough for them to really look at each other. He was flushed, his lips swollen, his trousers tented with his excitement. Hansel couldn't take his eyes off him.

"You're sure you're okay?" Philip asked, his voice rougher and lower than normal.

"I'm sure," Hansel said. "I've had closer calls than that; once I get the injection, I'm back to normal almost immediately." Philip nodded, but he still brought his hand up to stroke Hansel's cheek again. "You understand..." Hansel trailed off. He didn't want to say it, but he needed to. "You understand this doesn't change anything for me? I still have to move on soon."

"I know," Philip said quietly, but didn't drop his hand. "But I want this, for this moment. If you want it, too."

Hansel's heart was thundering. Part of him wished he could back away, that he didn't have the counter at his back and Philip across his thighs. Part of him was glad he didn't have the chance to run, to take the easy way out. "I've never--" His voice cracked.

"With a man?" Philip finished.

With anyone more than a handful of whores and Mina, but Philip was right as well, so Hansel nodded.

"But you like it when I touch you?"

Hansel nodded again. "Yes." He liked the size and strength of Philip's hands, liked seeing his excitement, liked thinking of Philip's careful, certain precision carrying over into bed.

"Shall we go to bed?" Philip asked, his fingers dropping from Hansel's cheek to curl around his hand instead.

Hansel took a deep breath. He liked that Philip had asked. "Yes. Let's."

Philip smiled warmly and rose to his feet, drawing Hansel up after him with their joined hands. The bed that Philip led him to was larger than Hansel had expected for a bachelor, and it was piled high with pillows. Philip flushed when Hansel looked from the bed to him. "I thought I should enjoy the space," he said. "But when I'm in it, it's too big."

Hansel ventured a smile. "But not today."

"Not today," Philip agreed. He ran a hand down Hansel's chest before his fingers went to the first buckle of the leather vest that Hansel wore snugly over top of a rough linen shirt and heavy woven pants. He stopped often to kiss Hansel. Could he feel the way Hansel's heart was racing, or did he just like kissing? Hansel decided it didn't matter; he liked kissing Philip, and if that made it easier not to worry about what they would do once they were unclothed, then it was just as well.

Hansel's vest and shirt lay discarded on the floor when Philip drew one of Hansel's hands to the laces at the collar of his much finer linen shirt. "If you loosen them," Philip said quietly. "I can pull the shirt off over my head."

Flushing, Hansel considered protesting that he knew how clothes worked...but to do so would hint at the nerves he felt, as much as he wanted this. Instead he ducked his head and picked apart the laces. The collar of Philip's shirt fell open, revealing pale skin generously dusted with dark hair. Hansel, having a largely hairless body, couldn't resist brushing his fingers through it. Philip made a soft sound in his throat, and when Hansel looked up his eyes were dark. "You like that?" Hansel asked.

"Yes," Philip said. He reached behind himself, grabbed hold of his shirt by the collar and pulled it forward over his head, letting it fall from his fingers once he had it off. His chest hair grew thicker between his nipples, and narrowed into trail that disappeared into his trousers. Hansel followed the line of it with fingers and eyes and hesitantly reached for the tie at Philip's waist, glancing up for permission. Philip licked his lips and nodded.

It took Hansel a moment to get the knot open, it being tied more securely than the laces at Philip's collar. Eventually it came loose and Philip's trousers slid down his legs. He stepped out of them, leaving him dressed only in his underclothes and socks. His arousal was even more evident this way, pushing eagerly at the fine cloth, a damp spot growing at the head.

Taking a quick breath, Hansel looked up and stepped in to kiss Philip again. Philip stroked Hansel's back as they kissed, as much soothing as teasing, and soon enough his nerves receded. When he bit his lip as Philip reached for his trousers, it wasn't to stem anxiety, but arousal; having those strong, clever fingers so near his straining cock made him feel all too excited. 

Philip opened the laces of Hansel's underclothes along with his trousers, and they fit close enough that when he tugged the trousers down, the underclothes went with them. The look that Philip gave him was openly admiring, and Hansel flushed and ducked his head, awkwardly tugging his socks off. When he looked up again, the expression hadn't left Philip's face. "You're beautiful, you know that?" Philip said.

"I'm a man," Hansel protested.

Philip smiled. "A beautiful man." He removed his own underclothes and socks and held out a hand to Hansel.

Hansel took his hand, though he wasn't sure where they were supposed to go; they were already in the bedroom. "No one's thought that of me before."

As it turned out, where they were going was up onto the bed, Philip leading the way and drawing Hansel after him, knocking most of the pillows off the other side as they went. "They thought it," Philip said as they lay down facing each other. "But they were probably to afraid to say. You're also very intimidating to us ordinary villagers."

Hansel huffed a laugh and traced Philip's cheekbone. "You're no ordinary villager."

Philip smiled, but Hansel could see that he didn't believe it. Then he was leaning in to kiss Hansel, and he was pressing Hansel over onto his back, and he was sliding on top of Hansel, and thoughts of arguing the point flew out of Hansel's head. 

Sex with Mina had been overwhelming, a little frightening, and underlain with the guilty knowledge that they were stealing their time from a crisis. That they'd coupled outside, half in the pool and half on the grass, had only underlined the rushed nature of the encounter. 

In contrast, he felt like he had all the time in the world with Philip. For all that Hansel would have to leave town soon, there was no need to rush. He could enjoy the soft warmth of the bedsheets beneath him, could take a moment to absorb how it felt to have Philip's weight holding him in place. 

Philip leaned down and started sucking soft kisses into Hansel's throat, rocking his hips just a little as he went, so that their cocks occasionally brushed against each other or rubbed tantalizingly over their bellies. Moaning, Hansel took hold of Philip's hips and tilted his head back, giving Philip more room to nibble at his neck.

"Is there anything you want?" Philip asked between nibbles. "Anything I can do for you?"

Hansel huffed a laugh. "I don't know. What do you like?"

Philip leaned up on an elbow, the shift pressing their bodies closer together, so that they both had to pause and catch gasps of pleasure in their throats when their cocks pressed close between them. Philip looked down at Hansel, hesitating for only a moment. "I like to get my partner slick and ready for me and slide my cock inside them," he said, voice low and rough.

Hansel blinked. "But I'm not a woman."

"Men need a bit of help getting slick," Philip murmured running a hand down Hansel's flank and letting it come to rest on his hip, fingers curving around towards Hansel's ass, "but it can be just as good as with a woman. Sometimes better."

It took Hansel a long moment before he made the connection between Philip's touch and his desires. When he did, he flushed scarlet. "That-- You like-- " He cut himself off. Obviously Philip liked it. "That feels good?" he asked, flushing darker when he realized how naive he sounded.

Philip didn't laugh or tease him, just gave his throat another nibble and murmured, "My partners have enjoyed themselves. We could try a little test, see if you like it?"

Hansel closed his eyes and just enjoyed the shivers of sensation every time Philip's tongue flicked out to tease his skin. "Okay," he said eventually.

Philip kissed him for that, long and deep. Hansel's hands tightened on Philip's hips as he sank into the kiss, sucked on Philip's tongue and forgot about everything else for a moment. Eventually Philip pulled back and shifted over next to Hansel again. "If you don't like it, say so and we'll do something else," he said as he retrieved a small bottle from the sideboard next to the bed.

"Have you done it the other way around?" Hansel asked, looking at Philip. 

Philip nodded as he opened the bottle and poured a puddle of sweet smelling oil onto Hansel's belly before setting the bottle aside. "I have," he said, dragging his fingers through the liquid. "It's good, but you asked what I like, and I like this best." He paused, slippery fingers resting lightly on Hansel's belly. "If you want to try being inside me, we can."

Hansel thought about it, but he wasn't going to get much time with Philip, and he'd never done this before. If he didn't like it, they could always switch. "No, I'll try," he said. 

Smiling, Philip moved his hand down between Hansel's legs; Hansel took the hint, spreading them a bit wider. "Just relax," Philip murmured. His slippery finger stroked the sensitive skin around Hansel's hole. Hansel closed his eyes again and let himself focus on the feeling. No one had ever touched him there. Hell, he didn't think he'd ever touched himself there. But it sent shivers of sensation through him, his skin tingling, almost like having his nipples stroked. "The skin here is very tender," Philip went on, low and hypnotic. "It can feel just as good as having your cock stroked, sometimes."

"Show me," Hansel said, eyes still closed.

Philip's answer was to press gently against Hansel's hole, rubbing for a moment before slowly sliding his finger inside. Hansel gasped, caught for a moment between the strangeness of it and the sudden flush of pleasure. It _was_ as good as having his cock stroked. Philip started to withdraw, and Hansel would have protested, but before he could get the words together, Philip sank his finger inside Hansel again and he ended up moaning instead.

"Good?" Philip asked.

" _Yes_ ," Hansel gasped eagerly. Philip's response was to speed the thrusts of his finger, and Hansel spread his legs further, panting as the stroke of Philip's finger inside him. "God, how can that feel so _good_?"

Philip chuckled, but it was warm, pleased rather than teasing. "The skin is different. More sensitive. You want more?"

Hansel wasn't sure what _more_ would involve, but if it felt this good... "Yes," he said. Philip's finger slid out of him and Hansel opened his eyes and leaned up on one elbow. "That's less," he pointed out. 

"Just need more oil," Philip promised, dragging his fingers though the puddle on Hansel's belly again. 

"If you--" Two fingers pressed into Hansel and he moaned and flopped down onto his back. "Fuck, yes, more of that," he panted. 

"Bend your knees," Philip said, and Hansel caught on after a moment, bracing his feet against the bed, legs spread and hips raised a bit to give Philip more room. "There, that's good."

Hansel didn't have the presence of mind to respond, too sunk in the waves of pleasure Philip was stirring inside him. There was a feeling of stretch, now, but it was good, not painful. When Philip's fingers were buried to the knuckle he almost felt full, the sensation just out of reach. Hansel wanted to know what that would feel like, that fullness.

"You're so beautiful," Philip murmured, and his voice was low and hoarse. Hansel pried his eyes open and found Philip flushed, his eyes dark and hungry as he watching Hansel. "I am so very lucky you wanted me."

Hansel laughed breathlessly. "I'm feeling like the lucky one at the moment." He bit his lip as Philip twisted his fingers and a shock of pleasure went through him, then moaned despite himself when Philip pressed a third finger into him alongside the other two. The stretch was more intense, the fullness better, and the depth of his stroking teased at the idea that there was more beyond this. Heat pooled inside him and seemed to seep out to the rest of his body, making his skin tingle with arousal. "I think I could come from this," he panted.

"Do you want to?" Philip asked, twisting his fingers again. "Or do you want more?"

"Yes, more, please," Hansel said immediately.

Philip didn't withdraw his fingers, though. "I could have you like this," he said, "but it might be easier for you to relax and let me in if you were on your hands and knees."

Hansel licked his lips nervously as he thought about that. About getting on his hands and knees. Philip would be behind him... ready to slide inside him. He could get much closer like that, deeper. Hansel took a deep breath. "Okay." Philip's fingers slid out of him and Hansel shivered for a moment, feeling his body spasm shut after being filled. He carefully turned over and settled himself on his hands and knees.

"Perfect," Philip said, voice rough and shaky. "Just a bit more slick." His fingers returned briefly, coated with more oil from the bottle, and slid inside him, smooth and wet. Philip groaned. "So good, this is going to be so good."

"Show me," Hansel begged.

Philip's fingers left him again, hands curling around Hansel's hips instead. A moment later there was a blunt, hot touch at Hansel's hole. He caught his breath involuntarily. "Relax," Philip murmured. "Remember how good my fingers felt?"

"Yeah," Hansel said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah."

He must have relaxed enough, because Philip _pressed_ and Hansel felt his body slowly stretch open, more than for Philip's fingers, almost enough to hurt, but not quite. Then Philip's cock was sliding into him, past where his fingers had reached. Hansel moaned deeply, feeling the thick weight of Philip buried deep inside him, truly filling him. Philip's hips pressed against the curve of his ass and a sudden, deep satisfaction flushed through Hansel at the knowledge that he'd taken it all.

"You feel so good," Philip groaned. "God, Hansel, tell me this is good for you, please tell me."

"It is," Hansel said, stunned. "So full. Fuck, I can't imagine how it could be better."

Philip hummed. "I could move." He rocked his hips just a little and the tiny slide of his cock inside Hansel sent waves of pleasure rolling through him.

" _Yes_ ," Hansel said, hands fisting in the bed sheets. "God, yes, please, Philip."

Philip withdrew slowly, a long, tantalizing slide of his shaft out before pausing, caught just inside Hansel, a teasing promise of his return. Hansel felt like his whole self was drawn toward the point where they were connected, waiting, waiting... Philip thrust back inside him, steady and strong, and Hansel moaned again. It was so _good_ , so much. He hadn't known he was capable of feeling like this. "Yes," Hansel panted as Philip sank into him again, and again. "Yes, yes, just like that. Fuck, that's good, you feel so good."

"So do you," Philip groaned. "Tight and hot and the sounds you make--" He snapped his hips hard and a sharp, helpless gasp of pleasure escaped Hansel. The sound spurred Philip to fuck Hansel faster, like he was chasing the gasps and moans and pleading words.

Hansel hung onto the sheets, elbows locked, body braced so that Philip could pound him harder, until the sound of their bodies meeting was almost as loud as their heaving breath and pleasured moans. He let his head hang down and closed his eyes, losing himself in the stroke of Philip's cock inside him, the grip of Philip's hands on his hips, the way his own cock bounced when Philip slammed home. That last was its own kind of pleasure, and though Hansel couldn't get a hand free to stroke himself, he wasn't sure he'd need to. Then Philip twisted his hips and something inside Hansel lit up and his whole body jerked in shock even as the loudest moan yet tore its way free.

"God," Philip said hoarsely, "to think you liked it so much before I even found this." He thrust again and pleasure crackled over Hansel's nerves, so intense he sobbed with it.

"Make me come, Philip," Hansel gasped. "Please make me come, I need it."

"Yes, yes." Philip let go of one of Hansel's hips, and a moment later his hand wrapped around Hansel's aching shaft. He was beyond moaning, could only whine needily. Philip didn't tease, just matched the movements of his hand with his thrusts, so that Hansel was being stroked inside and out, filling him with pleasure until he thought he must surely burst with it.

Then Philip twisted his hips and something gave way; Hansel's climax rushed over him, tumbling his thoughts together until he could barely brace himself for Philip's hungry, desperate thrusts. Philip's cock fucking into him made every aftershock a bright, breathless flare of pleasure.

"Hansel," Philip whimpered.

What could he do for Philip here on his knees? Hansel licked his lips. "Come for me, Philip," he said, and squeezed down as best he could.

Philip cried out, hips snapping in hard, and then Hansel felt him throb, felt the heat of his seed spilling. Philip slumped, spent, over Hansel's back, and it was Hansel who carefully eased them down onto the mattress, sighing softly as Philip slipped free in the process. They ended up spooned up on their sides, Hansel's back to Philip's front, Philip's arm draped loosely over Hansel's waist as they caught their breath and let their jangling nerves calm.

Eventually, Hansel stirred and rolled over to face Philip, who resettled his arm around Hansel in the new position. Philip's hair was mussed, his eyes warm and a bit sleepy, even though it was the middle of the day. "I take it you enjoyed yourself," Philip said.

"Fishing for compliments?" Hansel teased. "Yes. I did. And I believe you did, as well."

Philip hummed soft and moved his hand to brush his fingers along Hansel's jaw and run his thumb over Hansel's lips. "I did, very much. But I haven't spent nearly enough time kissing you." He suited actions to words, and for a long time they just kissed slowly.

But for all Hansel loved having those soft, certain lips against his, he couldn't ignore the light pouring in through the curtained window for much longer. He pulled away with a sigh. "We should get back to work."

Philip hesitated. "Are you sure you want to? You almost died."

Hansel snorted and gave Philip a long kiss. "I've had closer calls than that. And if we can make it work, I'll have a lot fewer close calls in the long run." Still Philip seemed uncertain. "We've tested how many variations?" Hansel asked. "And only had one major failure? It's worth it, Philip."

"This was the first time we tried adding anything," Philip said. "Maybe we should leave the other two experiments from today, at least."

"Or maybe we just keep the back up shot closer." Hansel put his arm around Philip and pulled him in so that his head rested on Hansel's shoulder. "We can do this."

Philip's breath was hot against Hansel's skin as he sighed. "All right."

Neither of the other two shots went as badly, but they both made Hansel ill enough that he had to lay down in between them. Philip sat next to him as he rested the first time, stroking his hair gently and telling him about some of the odd equipment he'd collected in his shop--what it did and where he'd found it. There was a thread of envy in his voice as he spoke of the travellers who brought him his collection. Hansel wondered that he kept at it, when it reminded him every day of the life he'd wanted and been kept from.

The second time, the injection made Hansel's muscles lock up and spasm constantly, even after Philip got the regular injection into him. That time Philip stripped Hansel back out of his shirt and pants and massaged him from head to toe. Hansel would have enjoyed it, except that it was only barely easing the painful spasms. When his body finally stopped twitching without his permission, Philip spooned up behind him, resting his forehead against the nape of Hansel's neck. "No more additions," he said shakily.

"Okay," Hansel agreed weakly.

As much as he wanted to stay that night, Hansel was sure Ben would be back in their room in the inn. After the encounter with Gretel the night before, he couldn't risk either one of them finding him gone overnight. He lay resting with Philip warm and solid against his back for a long time, but eventually he turned over, facing Philip and kissing him before saying, "I have to go."

Philip nodded. "You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Yes." Hansel wasn't sure how much more time they'd have, but tomorrow he could promise, at least.

It took another long minute for Hansel to stir himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He reached for his shirt, but Philip put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait a moment. We should clean off the last of the oil before you dress," he said.

So Hansel waited while Phil went and found a rough towel and a pitcher of water, and sat while Philip cleaned him off inch by inch. Hansel's clothes weren't so fine that they'd be ruined by a bit of oil, and they hadn't exactly been pristinely clean when he'd taken them off, but he let Philip work anyway. They weren't going to get too much time together; it made sense to enjoy what they had.

Philip helped him dress, as well, but didn't kiss him at the door. Hansel couldn't say he minded the lack--it would have felt too much like a goodbye. There'd be time for that later.

Thinking about that as he made his way back to the inn, Hansel had to wonder if bedding Philip had been a mistake. He'd loved it, all of it, from the sex to the simple lying together, but it was so much more than a little pleasure. More even than it had been with Mina, though he might have ended up in the same place with her if they'd had more time. After laying down with Philip, Hansel was sure that moving on would hurt in a way it never had before. 

But for all that, he knew that when he went back tomorrow, he'd be taking Philip to bed again.

When Hansel arrived back at the inn, Ben wasn't in the common room, but it _was_ late. Hansel climbed the stairs and tapped on the door of their room before ducking inside. There was a lump on the second bed that leaned up when Hansel came into the room. "Hey," Ben said blurrily. "You're back late."

"Got caught up," Hansel said. 

"Anything you can share?" Ben asked. "I've never gotten anything but nails and horseshoes from a blacksmith." 

No surprised that Gretel hadn't told him. Hansel couldn't decide if he should be relieved (she was still keeping his confidences), or anxious (she was leaving it to him to confess). Which he would. When they'd left. "Nothing ready to share," Hansel said. "How's the information gathering going?" He hadn't asked before, but Ben was too new to know how odd that was.

"Good." Ben sat up a bit more. "Found a good hunt, but it's almost two months travel. I'm looking for another."

 _If they went without you,_ a corner of Hansel's mind whispered, _you'd have more time with Philip. They could retrieve you on the way back._

Hansel scowled at himself and turned his back to Ben to hide the expression as he undressed for bed. It wasn't the boy's fault that Hansel's mind was chasing foolishness. "Tell me about it," he said instead. "The hunt that's two months out." Ben launched eagerly into a description of the hunt that was actually quite well put together. Hansel couldn't help but feel impressed... and a little bit guilty. He'd only asked as a distraction, and it was quickly becoming obvious that Ben really wanted to take on this hunt, and was treating this as an opportunity to win Hansel over. He hadn't figured out, yet, why they never took hunts that far.

 _Maybe that could change._ He and Philip _had_ seen improvements in Hansel's injections, before the recent disasters. If they combined some of the more successful experiments, maybe, just maybe, they could stretch his injections to once or twice a day instead of three times. Even a change so small as that would double his range; two months would be possible, if a bit of a stretch.

But he couldn't know for sure, so Hansel nodded and let Ben wind down and told him it sounded interesting, a phrase the boy had heard often enough by now to know it meant "but not practical". Ben deflated, but didn't seem surprised, and rolled back into his bunk. 

Hansel lay down facing the wall and closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time in coming.

***

"I think we're ready," Philip said two days later. 

Hansel tore his eyes away from the hollow of Philip's throat, exposed by his open collar. "Ready for what?"

"Combining our more successful experiments and seeing how long the shot is effective for," Philip answered. "We've tested every parameter I can think of, short of other additions." They both grimaced at that thought. "This is the next step."

Hansel swallowed a sigh. "I know." 

Philip's expression softened. "I can't promise a dramatic difference, but I _know_ this version will be better than what you have."

 _And once we're done, I'll have to stop making excuses to stay,_ Hansel thought. Gretel had been growing inscreasingly impatient with their lingering break in this town since her visit three days before. They'd been a week and a day in the same place now, and while that wasn't unheard of, usually it was because one of them was recovering from an injury. If they couldn't find a hunt within an appropriate distance, they usually moved on to a new source of information. Perhaps she might have been more patient if she hadn't known Hansel was keeping something from her, but she did.

All Hansel said aloud was, "Okay. How shall we handle the combination, then?"

Philip had notes prepared, and he quickly laid them out, making an adjustment here and there in response to Hansel's comments. In the end, they stayed the course with leeching time (which didn't seem to have an impact as long as it wasn't very short), while using pig pancreas (they'd tried half a dozen other types in the last day, and pig had proven far superior) and a smaller amount of water, finishing by filtering with the spinning technique.

Despite the smaller volume, they divided the solution into a larger number of injections, on the theory that whatever was leeched out of the pancreas was the important part, and the rest just medium. If that was the case, and this solution was more concentrated, he shouldn't need as much of it. This had the added benefit of producing more doses from the same amount of pancreas, which along with the hoped-for longer effective period would greatly exend Hansel's range.

The new injections were ready only moments before the light-headed rush of weakness came on; Hansel had learned to time his injections so that they'd be wearing off reasonably close to his working time with Philip.

"Okay," he said, leaning on the counter. "I'm ready. Let's try this out." Hansel reached for one of the injections they had prepared while Philip came to stand next to him with one of his ordinary doses. He'd done that ever since their misadventure with the added herbs, and Hansel hadn't seen any pressing reason to make him stop.

The shortened press of the new injection's plunger was strange. Hansel had to make himself stop pushing on it, long familiarity with the old medication making him feel nervously like he'd hadn't gotten the whole dose, even though he'd known it would be smaller this time. The sudden clearing of his head and rapidly returning strength was as familiar and as fast as always, though. Hansel waited for a long moment. There was no nausea, muscle cramps, or other warning symptoms. "Seems good," he told Philip.

"Well, now we wait," Philip said, guiding Hansel into the living room. He brought the standard injection with him, Hansel noticed. "No jam or tea, this time. We don't want to rush the next injection, we want to see if the interval is longer."

"That will take hours," Hansel pointed out, but he sat down on a bench and leaned back against the wall of Philip's small home. "Maybe even a day, if we're lucky."

"If you have somewhere better to be..." Philip trailed off, arching an eyebrow. When Hansel grinned at him, he grinned back. "You'd just started telling me how you got your rapid-fire gun working, last time we spoke."

"God, that machine," Hansel groaned. "It may have saved our lives during the Blood Moon, but creating it almost killed me." Hansel launched into the story, which ultimately involved three different smiths, more time at the forge himself than he cared to think about, and four early versions of the machine that had failed, including two that had actually _exploded_. Metal heated by friction and and gunpowder made for a dangerous combination; the second failure had struck Hansel with a handful of shrapnel and two actual bullets. He pulled up his shirt to show Philip where one had left a long score across his ribs, leaving a scar. "That's the easy one," he said. Philip reached out to run gentle fingers over the roughened skin; Hansel licked his lips and went on in a slightly rougher voice. "The other got me in the calf. I was laid up for two weeks, washing the wound almost constantly with a preparation that burned like fire so that it would heal without corrupting."

"And despite that," Philip said, "you were planning the next version of the gun the whole time, weren't you?"

Hansel laughed. "Of course." He started to lower his shirt, but Philip flattened his hand over the scar and looked up at Hansel with dark eyes. Heat sparked in Hansel. He lowered one hand and rested it gently on top of Philip's, slowly stroking the back of Philip's hand with his fingers. 

"It would have been so easy for me to never meet you," Philip said quietly.

 _How can the few days we have be worth so much?_ Hansel wondered. But they were. As much as it would hurt to leave Philip, at least Hansel would know that he was safe, that somewhere in the world was someone who cared about him, who remembered him well. He couldn't bear to ask what Philip would have, not even knowing if Hansel lived. Instead, he said, "I'm here now." 

He wasn't surprised when Phil kissed him, then, and led him back into his bedroom. Maybe he felt the need to have Hansel closer, or maybe he just want to have something they hadn't done before, but this time he talked Hansel through opening him up. If he'd been asked about it before, Hansel might have said that he expected fucking a man to be at least a little like fucking a woman; slick heat and tightness was the same, wasn't it?

It really wasn't.

Phil was tight in different places, the rim of him clenching closer around Hansel's cock than the rest, and the oil made him slick in different ways. And then there was his cock, hot and eager between them, and the deeper rumbles of his pleasure as he moaned. It was nothing like being with a woman, it was just _Philip_. Hansel kept getting distracted watching him, but under Philip's urging hands and words he brought them tumbling into completion. 

Withdrawing from Philip afterward was a strange moment that left Hansel reaching out to pull Philip into his arms. He lay quietly, just drinking in the way Philip rested against his side. "I feel like I could have done better at that," he said eventually. "But you were so amazing, I kept getting distracted."

Philip chuckled softly. "It was everything I wanted. But if you want to practice, I won't object."

Hansel stroked a hand down Philip's back. "We won't have time to practice, though, will we?" He managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but melancholy crept through.

"What if..." Philip trailed off, then pulled away from Hansel and scooted up a bit so that he was propped up on his side, looking at Hansel more directly. "What if we did? Have more time, I mean."

Hansel swallowed his frustration. "I can't stay."

"That's not what I meant," Philip said. "What if I went with you when you left?"

Hansel sat up, and Philip sat up to face him. "What about your shop?" Hansel asked, fighting down a surge of hope.

"I'd give it to Margeth," Philip said. "She's more than capable; we've been discussing setting up a shop of her own, but she didn't want to leave town and we don't need two here."

"You couldn't be happy just trailing after me."

"No," Philip agreed. "But I wouldn't just be trailing after you. The shop is a large gift; it would be reasonable for me to take a portion of the inventory, even some money, with me. Enough to start a travelling practice. From what you've told me, you visit many smaller towns in your journeys. Sometimes for a hunt, sometimes simply stops along the way. Those types of places don't have a proper apothecary of their own. I could do good work there, enough to fund myself, perhaps even enough to help you. Certainly I could provide first aid."

Hansel stared at him. "You have a whole life here," he said unevenly. "A business built up over years. And you've known me not even two weeks. What happens a month from now, when you realize you've made a mistake?" 

"You say that like it's a given." Phil reached out and took Hansel's hand in his. "I've had decades of this life, and it's never made me particularly happy. Not particularly unhappy, either. I've known enough people to realize when I've made a genuine connection with someone, and it's been a very long time since that happened." He met Hansel's eyes. "I want to be a part of your life."

Hansel closed his eyes. "The last person who wanted that died."

"I'm not going to jump into the middle of your battles, Hansel. My work will be at camp."

Hansel wanted to say yes, wanted to say of course, but he couldn't stop thinking about Mina. He managed to look Phil in the eyes again, though. "I have to think. I have to talk to Gretel."

Philip nodded. "Of course."

"I... might not ask right away," Hansel admitted. If Gretel was against the idea, he suspect they'd be moving on immediately. He wanted at least another day or two with Philip.

"No rush," Philip said, though they both knew that wasn't true. They lay back down together, the conversation turning to other things.

Hansel still hadn't felt the need for another injection by the time he finally dragged himself back to the inn. He could hardly sleep that night, staring into the dark, waiting for the weakness that told him the medication was wearing off. It was past midnight when Hansel finally reached for his next injection, breathing a silent laugh so as not to wake Ben, his hands shaking with giddiness. It had lasted _twice_ as long, maybe more. He wanted to rush out of the inn at that moment, to share the news with Philip. If Ben hadn't been there, Hansel thought he would have done it, left in the middle of the night and woken Philip up just to celebrate.

He _did_ roll out of his bed at dawn with the barest excuse to Ben. Philip was actually leaving his house when Hansel arrived, presumably to fetch breakfast from the baker before Hansel was expected to arrive. His eyebrows went up when he saw Hansel, who hustled him back into his home and pinned him against the door for a long, urgent kiss. Hansel pulled back and grinned. "It worked. The dose lasted until well past midnight."

Philip beamed back at him. "Even better than I hoped." Hansel kissed him again and Philip laughed into it, taking hold of his hips and guided him back towards the bedroom.

"We should celebrate, yes?" Hansel said, feeling himself flush.

"We should definitely celebrate," Philip worked the laces of Hansel's trousers open. "And I think," Philip went to his knees to remove Hansel's boots, "that I deserve a reward, for doing such good work."

They'd done the work together, but Hansel wasn't about to argue with the heat in Philip's eyes as he stood, or the way his hands slid into Hansel's trousers and pushed them down. Hansel stepped out of the clothes and pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him naked while Philip was still fully dressed. He could feel his blush spreading and distracted himself by reaching out to help Philip out of his clothes. "How you do you want me?" he asked, eyes on the buttons of Philip's shirt.

Philip's hands covered his for a moment and Hansel looked up. "Eager," Philip said. "And moaning for me."

Hansel's cheeks burned. "And how do you plan to make that happen?" he tried to tease.

"If you'll get on your hands and knees for me, I'll show you," Philip promised, licking his lips.

Hansel got into position on the bed, skin prickling as he waited, anticipating the slick touch of Philip's finger at his opening. The touch he got was hotter, wet but not slippery the way he'd expected. His brain stuttered on the realization that that was Philip's _tongue_. Philip licked slowly and a startled moan escaped Hansel. Encouraged, Philip went to work with quick, soft touches that sent shiver after shiver of pleasure through Hansel. He clutched at the bed and hung his head, moaning helplessly. When Philip finally pressed a finger into him, it slid in deep without any resistance at all.

"So beautiful," Philip murmured, voice rough. He pressed a second finger into Hansel. 

The oil dripped down Hansel's thighs, the trail of it almost a caress in itself. "More," he gasped, rocking back into the thrusts of Philip's fingers.

Philip took him at his word, fingers pulling free in favor of his cock. They both moaned, loudly, as Philip's cock slid deep into Hansel. It was faster than before, and Hansel could feel the tight, hot stretch of it opening him, but it was still so _good_ to be stroked inside, to be filled up. "God, you feel good," he moaned.

"Hansel?"

That wasn't Philip.

They froze. "Gretel," Hansel hissed. They scrambled apart, but it was too late. The curtain on the archway into Philip's bedroom wasn't even drawn; Gretel appeared there even as Philip withdrew from Hansel and dove for a blanket. 

She stopped as if she'd run into a wall and stared. "What are you _doing?_ " she demanded. 

"What are _you_ doing, just walking into a stranger's home?" Hansel shot back, face burning.

"I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me." Gretel braced her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you'd roll over for _'a stranger'._ " Eyes narrowing, Gretel turned a hostile look on Philip. "I don't know what you've done to my brother to make him think he wants this, but you'll knock it off and get out of my way if you know what's good for you."

"I don't need saving, Gretel," Hansel said. He threw the sheets aside and slid out of the bed, then snatched his shirt up off the flood and pulled it on. "Just because I've never been to bed with a man before doesn't mean I didn't want it."

Gretel flushed. "You never said anything to me about it."

"I never said anything to _anyone_ about it," Hansel said sharply, finding his pants and pulling them on. "Or am I not allowed to have any thoughts of my own?"

A muscle in Gretel's jaw jumped. "I guess I know why you've been so relucant to leave town, now. I know you never went to see the blacksmith--did you ever see the apothecary either, or have you spent every day on your knees?"

"Because God forbid I spend any time with someone who wants me," Hansel said. 

"No, God forbid you should tell me the truth."

"Oh, yes, everthing is about you." Hansel's mouth twisted. "Edward obeys you and Ben wants you and I follow you. Well, this time someone wants to follow _me_."

Gretel's eyebrows went up. "Follow you? What, he wants to come _with us_ when we go hunting?"

Philip broke in, answering her in a quiet, firm tone. "I do."

Gretel's eyes flicked over Philip before she turned back to Hansel. "He's a liability, Hansel."

"You don't know a thing about him," Hansel shot back. "Edward and Ben proved themselves; Philip could do the same if you were willing to give him a chance."

"We wouldn't even be having this argument if he wasn't your lover," Gretel said dismissively.

Hansel felt himself flush, with anger or embarassment, he wasn't sure. "Oh, so people who care about you are strong, but anyone who cares about me must be weak? Or maybe it's the other way around--you're strong, so people can care about you. But I'm weak, so it's not safe for them to care about me."

Gretel's eyebrows flew up. "I've never said you were weak."

"It doesn't need to be said," Hansel said bitterly. "It's obvious every time we turn down a hunt too far away to reach before my medication runs out. It's hammered in every time my strength gives out. You take it so much for granted that even after I tell you that I've been speaking to an apothecary about something that would help us, it never occurred to you that maybe I was talking about the damned injections."

"I spoke to the apothecary," Gretel said, frowning. "She directed me here; she didn't say anything about medication."

Philip coughed quietly. "Margeth is my assistant," he said. He climbed out of bed and located his own trousers, stepping into them with deliberation. "And she didn't know about the medication; we were working out of my home in an attempt at discretion."

"With Philip's help, we stretched out my last injection for most of a day," Hansel told Gretel. "But what good could an apothecary possibly do for our group?" He snorted and strode out of the bedroom. With his clothes so dishelved he wasn't about to step onto the street, but he ducked into Philip's small kitchen and leaned against the counter. Closing his eyes, he took a long breath. 

After a moment, he could tell he wasn't alone. He opened his eyes, unsurprised to find Philip standing before him. "Apparently, I've decided I do want you with me," Hansel said wryly. "But it seems that doesn't matter." Hansel looked away from Philip. "She's my sister. We were all each other had for so long, I can't--" He broke off, closing his eyes. No matter how close he felt to Philip, no matter how much Hansel wanted more time with him, he knew he would never leave Gretel. The bond between them went beyond blood. Hansel opened his eyes and rubbed a hand over his head. "I don't know if she'll ever forgive me for lying to her, or if she'll ever trust me again."

Philip stepped up to him and cupped Hansel's face in his hands. "Hansel," he said gently, "you're as important to her as she is to you. It would take far, far more than this to break her trust in you. We all say unwise things when surprised and hurt, but neither of you were terrible."

Hansel smiled, though it felt bittersweet. "I'm going to miss you."

"I don't see why you should," Philip said. He stroked his thumbs over Hansel's cheeks. "Gretel can make me unwelcome in your camp, but she can't dictate where I go of my own accord, and if I should choose to travel alongside you, she can't stop you from visiting me, either." Here he faltered. "Assuming you're willing to accept continued friction with Gretel. I... Well, I would understand if you chose to avoid that."

Hansel took a deep breath and touched his forehead to Philip's. "No. No, I want to see you, I want you near. Gretel will get used to that, eventually." 

"Maybe sooner than you expect."

Hansel and Philip leaped apart, having been too absorbed in each other to hear Gretel approach. 

She smiled tentatively. "You usually have better awareness of your surroundings than this, brother."

Hansel flushed, but it was clear she was trying to tease. "If anyone should be able to sneak up on me, it's you," he offered.

Her smile steadied, then faded a bit. "I'm sorry for the unkind things I said about... Philip, is it?" Hansel nodded. Gretel went on. "It's only that... I grew up worrying about you, Hansel. No matter how healthy or strong or skilled you become, I'm always going to worry about you. I went looking for you at the blacksmith, and you weren't there. I went looking for you at the apothecary--I thought--and you weren't there, either. I thought, 'Why would he lie like that?'" Gretel shrugged. "The only thing I could think of was that you were trying to protect me from something. And if you thought I needed protecting, you must be in trouble, and when the apothecary... the assistant... said I might find you here, I came rushing over."

"And found me quite happily engaged, no danger in sight," Hansel said, feeling his expression soften. "Leaving you fully primed for a fight."

"Which I proceeded to pick," Gretel said wryly. "I _am_ sorry."

Philip shifted, then seemed to steel himself. "It seemed like you might be less than pleased to find Hansel with a man, in particular."

"Surprised," Gretel said firmly. "And... perhaps it will take some getting used to. But I've some experience in accepting things I thought strange, before." She took a breath. "I'm certain having an apothecary in camp would be an asset. But if you mean to come hunting--"

"No," Philip interjected. Gretel raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a fool," Philip went on. "I know I've no training, and no experience. My place in Hansel's life isn't at his side in a fight. But I can keep a safe camp for him--for all of you--to return to. I can assist the villages, perhaps even earn some trust there. I can help support you when hunts are thin or far off. This isn't an unconsidered impulse, Gretel."

She relaxed visibly. "So I see. Hansel?"

Hansel frowned. He wanted so much to simply agree, to have Philip and Gretel and not look a gift horse in the mouth. But... "If you're agreeing only to placate me--"

"I'm not," Gretel insisted. "I objected without knowing what I was talking about. I took a moment to calm down and think after you'd both stepped away. And..." She hesitated for a moment. "Hansel, I had no idea you felt as though you were holding us back. It never occurred to me to think you weak for needing your injections, but it's clear that _you_ felt that way. What kind of a sister am I," she asked helplessly, "that I didn't see how much that weighed on you?"

"It didn't bother me so much before Ben and Edward joined us," Hansel said, stepping away from Philip to take Gretel's hand. "But I can't help holding myself up to their boundless energy and finding myself lacking."

Gretel laughed and squeezed his hand. "Energy is no use if you don't know what to do with it. I'd take you at my side in a fight over either of them if I had to choose."

Hansel beamed and pulled her into an embrace. "Likewise."

After a long moment, Gretel pulled away, let out a brief breath, and nodded briskly. "Well," she said. "We have much to discuss. Not the least of which is this injection that lasts almost a day."

"Perhaps at the inn?" Hansel looked to Philip. "You can meet Ben." He held out a hand.

Philip smiled and took Hansel's hand, letting himself be drawn over to Hansel's side. "I'd be glad to."

"He's a good kid," Hansel assured him. Then he frowned. "Though I don't know what he'll think of... us."

Gretel laughed. "Having Philip along means less time tending camp and more time fighting and training for Ben. That will swamp any objection, I expect."

Hansel relaxed, then shook his head. "I never expected to have to worry about anything like this."

"One of the downsides of having people who care about you," Philip said, smiling.

"Worth it," Hansel murmured.

More than worth it.

~!~


End file.
